Walking After Midnight
by Rogue Fifty-Two
Summary: In a world where Harry never goes to Hogwarts, Hermione joins up with the underfunded and undermanned Major Investigations Unit post-Hogwarts after being passed over for her desired career choice. But her first case may well be her last, as she soon finds herself plunged into a world where nobody is safe. And one man seems to be at the centre of it all, the mysterious Man in Black.
1. Fast Train

**Walkin' After Midnight (Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Life of Crime)**

 **Chapter One: Fast Train**

" _Girl, you can't even think of calling this shit a war_."

" _Why not_?"

" _Wars_ _end_."

~ _The Wire_ , 1.01 "The Target"

 **I.**

Hermione Granger graduated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry after what felt like seven long years, seven, long _hard_ friendless years, aside from the odd one-time fling with outsiders like Viktor Krum, who she had met in the library, and the oddity that was Luna Lovegood. She had passed by much in relative obscurity even though she managed to set the record for the highest marks on any written assignment since the Great Headmaster himself Albus Dumbledore, chiefly because of one person, Harry Potter. Or rather it was the distinct lack of Harry Potter that kept causing a massive conundrum at Hogwarts year after year, as each student expected him to show up one year later, and eventually, even Hermione lost faith that the Boy Who Lived would ever show up at Hogwarts at all, her hero-worship of authority figures mostly shattered by the idealistic dream of a boy who she had never met. A boy who had supposedly saved the world back when he was a baby, and a boy who the wizarding world had never heard from again.

"Please state your name and intention," the female voice of the operator of the lift that took Hermione Granger into the depth of the Ministry of Magic informed her. There was nobody else in the lift with her, or at least not yet, which made things a lot easier than it would have been otherwise.

"Hermione Granger, Protest," said Hermione, sighing.

"Welcome to The Ministry of Magic, Hermione Granger," said the female voice, and a badge slid out of the compartment. _Hermione Granger, Activist,_ it read, and she realised she should have put down the name of her actual job title. "What floor would you like to proceed to, Miss Granger?"

"Level One," said Hermione. "I would like to talk with Amelia Bones."

"Level One it is," the announcer concluded, and the lift descended. Hermione eventually pushed her way out of the lift, avoiding the onrushing onslaught of people that included the likes of Ronald Weasley's father, who shot a quick look at Hermione's badge out of curiosity, raised an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't know we had activists working for us now…. What was it again, sorry?"

"Oh, no I'm not an activist," said Hermione, sighing at her poor choice of name-tag. "I've been assigned to the Major Investigations Office, but there must be some mistake, I applied for the Department and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures which was initially accepted, I even did the interview…"

"Well, if you were in the Major Investigation Office, that's where you're meant to be," said Mr. Weasley. "I wish I could be of more help to you but the fact of the matter is that as long as I have worked here The Ministry has never made mistakes when it comes to matters like this. Oh, we may disagree from time to time, but it has never made a mistake. If you were assigned to the Major Investigations Office you are meant to be a member of the Major Investigations Office, and in which case, I must wish you good luck and good day to you! I need to introduce my son to his new job, if you'll excuse me…"

' _Rude,_ ' Hermione thought. She worked her way through the crowd, and eventually came across a door marked Amelia Bones. But the door itself was closed rather than open, and Bones' office had been largely empty. In Bones' place stood a man whose name she didn't know, but would later find out that he went by the name of Rufus Scrimgeour. "Activist?" the man's first word to her echoed that of Weasley's. "You know we don't have a job for any of those."

"It was by mistake," insisted Hermione, wondering how many more people would presume that her sole purpose was employment by the Ministry. "I was rather annoyed at your machine."

"What did the Ministry's machine ever do to you?" Scrimgeour said, and Hermione realised that she'd said those words too quickly to avoid directly insulting this man's organization right in front of him. She also noticed that Scrimgeour also boasted a stack of boxes in his hand, full of personal items, and began to put the picture together. "Never mind. I trust you are here for something, correct?"

"That would be correct, Sir," said Hermione. "I was wondering, is this office still Amelia Bones' office?"

"No it isn't, I'm afraid," said Scrimgeour. "You picked an interesting time to join the Ministry, girl. It's an election year. Whilst the election's underway…"

"No candidate running against the Minister is allowed to use the Ministry as a campaign headquarters, per the new law," said Hermione, putting the pieces together. "Does that mean… Merlin's Beard. Madame Bones is actually going to run against Fudge."

"It would appear so," said Scrimgeour. "As a result, I have been assigned to fill her role during her time away, and if she fails, well then this will likely become my new permanent position. Fudge doesn't like people who try to undermine his power. Bones is no newcomer to politics too, this election could get messy indeed if both sides go out fighting."

"So I suppose I should speak to you directly if I had come to address any matters concerning my employment?" Hermione said, hopefully.

"What, want to quit already? You haven't even been here a day yet."

"No, sir, I don't want to resign just yet," said Hermione. "I came here to bring up an error in my application form. It says I was assigned to the Major Investigations Office rather than the Department and Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, which I initially put my name down for and was interviewed under the assumption that I would be getting that job."

"Interesting," said Scrimgeour, taking the sheet of paper that Hermione had pulled out of her pockets, inspecting it. "I trust you are aware of how skilled and proficient the Ministry of Magic is at matters such of these. It is a very grave accusation indeed that you are making against the Ministry, I'm afraid, Miss…"

"Granger, sir," said Hermione, looking dejected. "So, am I to assume that it's a no?"

"You shouldn't automatically jump to conclusions," said Scrimgeour. "Far more people these days want to join the Magical Creatures Regulation Team because they hope that they might see a Dragon, or experience a Veela Coven for the first time on active duty. Very few join because they want to make a difference. The same can be said for the Major Investigations Unit. Very few join because they want to do the actual street-work that Aurors need to crack the higher profile cases. You however, seem to be a peculiar case indeed."

"You've read my file, sir?"

"I know you started a House-Elf Rights group at Hogwarts," Scrimgeour said, pausing slightly, as if trying to remember something, "SEW, was it?"

"SPEW," said Hermione.

"SPEW," said Scrimgeour, annoyed at being corrected. "A bold idea, employed with the tactics that would make you a perfect fit for _both_ organizations. You have the knowledge for the deskwork of both, and the field experience for the latter. But you must understand you cannot walk into the Ministry, or even Hogwarts, with a wand and a way with words and hope to convince people to abandon something as complicated tradition when the beings who you're trying to free don't want to abandon it themselves."

"It's slavery, sir. Not tradition. There's a difference."

"Here's what I'll do," said Scrimgeour. "I received a request for you to be put in the MCU by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself. He recognises your potential."

Hermione almost let out an awed breath at this comment. Shacklebolt was the legendary Auror responsible for getting Aurors to sign up for the Auror taskforce in the first place. They joined up because they wanted to be the next Shacklebolt. Few knew however what had happened to him, and fewer still believed that he was even working with the Ministry anymore. Despite his frequent activities in the years following the War, recent years had seen a sharp decline on his on-street activities. Curiosity alone was why Hermione wasn't going full on rage-mode, or Full Hermione, as Ginny Weasley used to taunt her when she got deeply passionate about a subject that she was invested in. "Mr. Shacklebolt, sir?"

"Yes," said Scrimgeour. "Now, here's what I'll do. I'll give you a case to solve in the taskforce. Nothing too complex but nothing too simple either. Test your waters, see if you like it or not. If it feels your kind of thing… Then you can maybe stick around a bit longer. However, if you don't like it, or want to move anyway, then report back to me and we'll see what we can do. Don't let Kingsley down, Granger. He used a lot of leverage to get you here."

"If you think it will benefit me…" said Hermione, with a reluctant sigh. "Where can I find Major Investigations?"

"Courtroom Ten," said Scrimgeour. "Level Ten."

"Courtroom Ten, Sir? According to _Hogwarts a History,_ it hasn't been used since War Trials. Is there any particular reason why it' being used today? I thought it had been decomissioned."

"Let's just say you'll find out," said Scrimgeour. "I'll allow Kingsley to handle that area of the talk. Go. He's waiting for you."

"Yes sir," said Hermione, respectfully bowing. "One more thing, Sir? Should I change the badge? It doesn't look as though I'm going to be partaking in any social activism anytime soon."

"Actually, keep it," said Scrimgeour, glancing up at her as she left the room. "Merlin knows, the Ministry could use a few more activists around here. For all of our sakes, let's hope that you're as good as your reports say you are…"

Hermione did not stay around long enough to hear Scrimgeour conversation with his assistant, a man named Percy Weasley. If she had, she would have not only remarked that those Weasleys were getting everywhere, but she also would have been rather offended by Weasley's comment to Scrimgeour in return that went along the lines of; "Do you think she bought her speech, sir?"

"It appears so," Scrimgeour said. "Merlin knows Kingsley needs more help down there, and his name is a big draw. But if she finds out that she's still expected to show up at the Magical Creatures Relations Team for an interview in the next few days, there'll be hell to pay. Can you get a favour from them? I don't know, give them Flint or something to keep them satisfied. They've been wanting him for a while, apparently he's good with animals."

"Yes sir," said Percy, taking few notes.

"And for Merlin's sake, get rid of any official documentation about this. Last thing we need right now is another scandal, this close to election year. And did you bug Bones' new offices successfully?"

"I think so, sir. We'll be able to hear everything she says momentarily."

"Good. Remember, this is strictly off the books. Nothing goes in or out of this room."

"Yes sir."

 **II.**

By the time the lift reached level ten, Hermione Granger was the last person on it. Several people had got on and got off along the way, she was pretty sure she recognised a few old classmates, but none stopped to speak to her, all far too busy minding their own business. She wished for a book to read on the wait down, something portable and easily switched on and off would have worked, something that could have carried multiple books in one place without her dragging multiple around in a bag would have been a nice addition, but at the moment she had just paid out enough money for a small flat in North London, not too far from Highbury Stadium, and as a result, didn't have enough money to spend on other things right now. She worked part time as a receptionist at her parents' dentists for a year to finance some muggle tuition in case the magical world didn't work out for her, and as a result, she now was closing in on qualifications both in the magical and muggle world.

Not that it mattered to either side that she had both, unless she was lucky to get a job at either a muggle-friendly wizarding company or a magical-friendly muggle company, which were few and far between. So, she was stuck at the Ministry of Magic, in their Major Investigations Department. Hopefully for Hermione's wellbeing, they wouldn't still be tackling cases as serious as they had been in the past. However, she was quickly proved wrong as soon as she entered the courtroom, which had been transformed almost completely into something that looked straight out of _Law and Order._ There were several desks arranged in the courtroom, with the room having been enlarged. The chair itself where prisoners were held during trials was still there, creating a physical and intimidating presence.

There were three other people in the room, Hermione noted, and two of them were currently observing a wall of potential suspects in a currently ongoing case, which had moving, small portraits of them. "Well if we take a look at it this way," one of them was saying, a white man in his late thirties, overweight, and looking like how a muggle would expect a standard, satirical portrayal of an American police detective to look, complete with doughnut in hand. "There's three men, as far as we can tell, who work Knockturn. For the purposes of this exercise we'll call them Queen, Jack and Ace. Ace works outside. Jack works inside and rotates with Queen. Whenever any ministry official comes anywhere near them, they vanish, and if there was ever any crime in Knockturn happening at the time, it stops like someone snapped the fingers. Crime is listed at zero per cent in Knockturn in the Ministry records because of this… but I think we both know that the opposite is true."

"They're playing by new rules," said the other, a woman. "It's hard to tell what they'll do next. It's like whoever this guy is, this Man in Black… he's changed them completely. How they work. What they do. He's done what the last five Ministers never could."

"You almost sound as though you admire him," said Hermione, glancing up at the dark-skinned woman from behind her. She turned around, and Hermione recognised who it was almost immediately, a former Slytherin student named Daphne Greengrass. "Greengrass."

"You say that as though you didn't recognise me from behind," Greengrass said. "I know that voice anywhere, Granger. What are you doing down here?"

"You haven't heard?" the man addressed Greengrass, who had transferred in the Summer before Hermione had, by the looks of things. "She's the new recruit. Word on the street is, Shack asked for her to be transferred here…"

"Well, Merlin Knows we need more people down here," said Daphne. Hermione observed her, the way she moved, the way she walked, realizing that beyond her structure, she didn't actually know that much about the Slytherin student during her time at Hogwarts. She hadn't quite been one that had brought into the Death Eater propaganda but at the same time she wouldn't speak out against one of her own either, keeping a low-profile throughout the year, always under the radar, to the left of the painting, just out of sight. She had a cigarette in her mouth, something which felt odd to Hermione, she'd met a few people from magical backgrounds who smoked cigarettes, especially muggle ones. And what made things more interesting was that for the first time she properly paid attention to the music playing in the background, and whilst she was not overly familiar with the artist, the lyrics betrayed its origin of New York Dolls' _Stranded in the Jungle._ "Not what you were expecting, huh, Granger? Activist, right? They run out of letters or something for Major Investigations?"

"If I had a galleon for every time someone's brought up my badge today," Hermione said, with a sigh. "So… is there anything that I need to be aware of before I start? I didn't bring my bags with me because I wanted to work out what I was working with first."

"Well, you don't have your own private office, so you can forget about bringing in your own copies of _Witch Weekly,_ " said Daphne. "My desk's over there, Shack is the only one who gets his own office, if you'd call it that, up there where the chairs used to be, and we've got another new recruit coming in who's going to take point opposite you. That desk there belongs to Auror Tonks, but she's taking maternity leave, so we're going to have to be without her for a while. And that desk there belongs to this man, John Dawlish. Say hi, John. That Doughnut's still going to be there when you finish your sentence."

"Um, yeah, right," Dawlish babbled. "Hi, Granger, right? Good to meet you. I handed Shack the file with your name in it when we met, by the way. Without me, you might not have got the job at all."

"And I'd be working in the department where I initially applied for in the first place," said Hermione. "Sorry, but you weren't exactly my first choice."

"We're never anyone's first choice," said a strong but firm voice from behind her and Hermione blushed, turning around, recognising the sound of the voice, her face reddening with embarrassment at having insulted the office in front of its head on her first day. "Investigations has been understaffed and underfunded for years. Fact of the matter is that they don't need us anymore, when most of the Death Eaters are taken care of by the Aurors. I'd be surprised if any of us lasted until the end of next year, so if you had your hopes up for a long career in the business then you're going to be disappointed. But that doesn't stop the rest of us from trying to do some good before we go so I suggest Granger, if you want to actually make a difference here today, now might be the perfect time to stop standing there and do some work."

"Yes sir," said Hermione, her face red. "I didn't mean…"

Kingsley Shacklebolt burst out laughing at Hermione's ashamed reaction, his voice hoarse. "Don't worry, Granger. Nobody wants to be here. I remember Dawlish wanted Muggle Relations, and what was it that you wanted Greengrass, Press?"

"You're right, Shack."

"She was going to be a _reporter,_ " Shacklebolt said. "Well let me tell you this. The world needs good reporters, but Greengrass here, her talents were a perfect fit for the Major Investigations Office, so I had her transferred. Already working really well. Who knows, keep this up, maybe you'll reach Commander of your own Division one day, and get paid far more than being a simple reporter. A much more honourable task, too."

"You're too kind, Shack. Any word from Scrimgeour? Know who we're getting yet?"

"Seamus Finnegan, apparently," Shacklebolt said, and Hermione could see Daphne roll her eyes in distaste.

"One Gryffindor was bad enough, but two?"

"That reminds me," said Kingsley. "I'm going to need a word in private, please, Greengrass."

"Yes sir," said Daphne, throwing her cigarette and then obliterating it in the air with a spell as she did so, before it hit the ground. Kingsley and Daphne climbed up towards the courtroom seats, but no matter how hard Hermione listened, she couldn't make out what they were saying.

"It's a spell," explained Dawlish. "Muffliato. Greengrass found a diary in Snape's quarters before she left. Has loads of new spells that he may have invented. Of course, he doesn't know it's stolen, she cloned it, but the point still stands, we have access to some prototype spells that nobody else does, apart from Snape, of course, and Merlin knows who he told about them. But they're most likely prepping Greengrass ready for an undercover assignment, I wouldn't get used to her staying around for long."

"Undercover?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We're sending her into the hornet's nest," Dawlish said, moving the pictures of the board containing the mysterious members of the criminal organization in Knockturn Alley over, replacing them with that of the Death Eaters. These names were more frequent, more popular, "At least we know who these people are. The Devil You Know, and all that, right?"

"Sending Greengrass into the Death Eaters to spy, isn't that a bit… suicidal?"

"Well, Snape got away with it before so we're hoping to try a similar tactic," said Dawlish. "Look at them. We can't see what they're saying, but they're arguing. The boss will want word spread that it looks like they fell out so he can fire Greengrass, giving her the backstory that she needs to join the Death Eaters and get away with it. Once she's inside, we'll know everything she knows."

"It's dangerous. Does she know her legilimens?"

"Fully proficiently trained by none other than Snape himself," said Dawlish. "She was something of a prodigy to him in the mind arts. They're going to have to wipe my mind soon so I don't give anything away, and now that I've told you, they're going to have to wipe your mind as well. At least of the double agent part, anyway. Can't have a Death Eater reading your mind on a case."

"If that's true, why did you tell me?"

"I'm terrible at keeping secrets," said Dawlish. "My number one weakness, I get mind-wiped every time I leave the office and then my memory restored when I return so I can continue the days of my activity. I can't spill too much to my wife, she's more of a chatterbox than I am."

"That… must not be healthy."

"It isn't," Dawlish said. "But I'm paid handsomely for it. And I love my work. There's nothing they can't take away from me."

"Apart from your memory."

"Apart from my memory," nodded Dawlish, as the spell concealing the conversation was cut short, and Greengrass faked storming out of the room, leaving an exhausted Shacklebolt behind. Moments later, the newcomer, Finnegan, entered the room, spotting Hermione and cautiously waving.

"Granger!" his Irish accent was clear. "I didn't expect you to be starting here too. Lucky me that we got someone from Gryffindor as well. What happened to that Snake?"

Hermione wondered if part of Finnegan knew that he wasn't in Hogwarts anymore, but then again, given how steeped the Wizarding World was in tradition, most of the higher-ups still hadn't gotten used to the fact that they were no longer at that school either. "Oh," Dawlish covered for her. "Some people just can't take the stomach of working for the taskforce. You must be the new kid, right, Finnegan?"

"Yes sir."

"Well, good. Because I've got a case for you two to solve," said Dawlish. "A missing girl. Reckon you can work together on this? Two Gryffindors shouldn't have a problem."

"No sir," Finnegan shook his head as Dawlish handed Finnegan the files.

"Think of this as an initiation test," said Dawlish, with a smile. "Sally-Ann Perks. Cold Case, every other department has officially given up on her."

"She wasn't there for her OWLS," remembered Hermione, instantly. "If Harry Potter had gone to Hogwarts, his name would appear after the Patils. I remember they kept Potter's name on the register in case they expected him to randomly show up at Hogwarts one day. It was Patil, Patil, Perks, Potter, all throughout our first four years. I'm pretty sure Snape deducted points from Gryffindor for Potter not attending his class even though he was never at the school in the first place."

Dawlish chuckled. "Snape can be like that. So, here's the thing. Somewhere between her fourth year and her OWLS exam, Sally-Ann Perks disappears completely. It's like she slipped out of view from everyone's minds. Forgotten, and never mentioned again. We tried following up at Hogwarts but nobody seemed to know, not even her friends, and then her parents? They didn't even realise she was missing until we told them."

"That must have been harsh," Finnegan said. "So, we're searching a cold case, several years old. This must be impossible to find, right? Even by wizarding standards. So, what's changed now? Why the sudden re-interest in the case?"

"Because look at this," said Dawlish, handing Hermione a paper of _The Guardian,_ a muggle newspaper. "I know the pictures don't move, but look. Take a real look."

"Arsenal sign Frenchman Thierry Henry on a club record fee?" Finnegan said, raising his eyebrow. "What's that got to do with Perks?"

"Oh, I'm always getting the muggle papers muddled up," Dawlish said. "That was the sports paper, look on the front. The headline isn't important, people like The Dursleys get murdered every other day in the papers. What is important is the picture. Look there. What do you see, in the background?"

"Huh," said Finnegan, glancing at one particular girl, about Finnegan and Hermione's age, who was turning about in the photo to look at the camera. The girl herself had dyed blue hair, but was still otherwise looked the same age as Sally-Ann Perks would have done, with exactly the same facial features.

"So, she's alive," Hermione said. "But isn't this the first time she's been spotted?"

"Yes," said Dawlish. "I don't know what she's doing back here, but obviously, the press were running this article about something happening in Surrey, Little Whinging, some murders of their own being discovered, a relatively obscure muggle family, and, in the picture of the nearby street, crowded of course, Perks shows up, out of the blue."

"That's interesting," said Hermione, noticing something. "Look at the photo. Everyone else is looking off to the left, not directly at the camera. They're all looking at the house, but Perks? She's looking directly at the Camera."

"Good observation," said Dawlish.

"I'm just spitballing ideas here, but why show up, why now, after all these years in hiding?" Hermione said. "All these years off the grid, you'd think she'd want to remain hidden. And she's done a pretty good job so far. But why throw it away in an instance? Surely, she knows there's going to be cameras there."

"So what you're saying is she wants to be found," realised Finnegan.

"It would appear so."

"But why? Why now?"

"And isn't that the question of the hour," said Dawlish. "It seems you two have a field trip. Go to Little Whinging. See what you can find out about her, ask around, is she local? Or just passing through. Don't let me down."

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**

And we have our mystery. Don't worry, it won't be long until Harry shows up. This story is set in 1999 at the turn of the new millennium, but I'm going to take a liberty and say that some song titles in the chapters will come from after 1999 like with Solomon Burke's _Fast Train,_ which is a nod to _The Wire_ which proved to be a source of inspiration for this fic, along with other crime dramas like _The Warriors, Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Reservoir Dogs, The Departed_ and more. I'm not 100% sure how Ministry Election campaigns work in canon but I'm going to be using my own method for this and you'll start to see both sides of the Fudge and Bones campaigns over the course of the fic.

I'm aware of the many interpretations of Daphne Greengrass and the fact that she speaks very few words in canon. I've decided to do something different with her character who isn't exactly a standard "Ice Queen with a heart of gold," and you'll get to see more of her going forward. My baseline for her character is kind of a combination of personalities of Starbuck from _Battlestar Galactica_ and Detective Kima Greggs from _The Wire._ I like using side characters who don't have much page time in my fics and fleshing them out a bit more - like Fletcher in the last fic and Greengrass and Finnegan in this one, so you'll see more of the same going forward. But at the centre, this will be a story focused on Hermione with Harry paying a key role which I don't want to specify yet, but it shouldn't take much of a leap to work out where he will factor into things going forward, especially if you've been paying attention to my author's notes in the previous fic. And there will be no bashing in this one, as much as it seemed like the slight toward Arthur Weasley when Hermione met him earlier. Ron Weasley will play a part, but not a huge one.

The end goal is 13 chapters, but that may not be possible depending on how long it goes on for. I know exactly how it's going to end already, and it's going to, like _Have You Ever Seen the Rain_? serve as a standalone story with no sequels, at least for now. As usual from that fic where possible I'll be doing a fanfic/film recommendation for each chapter.

Fanfic Recommendation of the Chapter: A fairly old one-shot fic _As Long as You Know That, Potter,_ looking at Harry's first occlumency with Snape.

Film Recommendation of the Chapter: _A Fistful of Dollars._ The start of one of the greatest trilogies ever, a badass Ennio Morricone soundtrack and Sergio Leone's excellent direction really elevates this film.


	2. I'm On Fire

**Walking After Midnight**

 **Chapter Two: I'm On Fire**

"The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed."

~Stephen King, _The Last Gunslinger_

 **I.**

"Alright," Amelia Bones was saying to her staff, who were busy unloading boxes around her new campaign office. "We need to get things established quickly, the first wireless interview's tomorrow. Come on, people, let's get this show on the road! We don't have all day."

There was the confirmation of multiple affirmatives as Amelia watched her eager employees rustle about, using their wands to make the place look tidy and presentable. "M'am," one of Amelia's subordinates, a young former Hufflepuff named Ernie Macmillan, who had just graduated from Hogwarts, approached her. "Are you sure this building is the best place for us? It's kind of situated… off the beaten track, if you know what I mean. Fudge has the whole Ministry, but I'm not sure how we can build up our grassroots campaign from a back-alley."

"Well, Macmillan, the Minister wasn't exactly generous when approving buildings for us to stay in," said Amelia, sighing reluctantly.

"I'm not sure how this is fair. He's done this deliberately. We'll have to put more people out on the street, and nobody's going to see us from here," said Macmillan.

"How about this. If we win, next election, we can make sure that we get the number one seat in town? How does that sound?" said Amelia, glancing across the room as another subordinate rushed across having just appeared from the fireplace, it was one of her daughter's friends, Hannah Abbot. "Alright, Abbot, what have you got for me this time? Please tell me it's good news."

"I'm afraid not m'am," Abbot said, waving the latest edition of _The Daily Prophet_ in her hand as she threw it across the table to Amelia. "Look at the title."

 **II.**

"You can't win anything with kids," in his office, Minister Fudge, read aloud the statement that took up much of the front page of _The Daily Prophet_ on a Monday morning, alone in his office with Lucius Malfoy, a man who very much represented the old guard of the Ministry, of Fudge's era, people who had been around since the War. "Whose idea was this? I'm loving it. We should give them a raise."

"It would appear Rita Skeeter," said Lucius Malfoy, causing a scowl on Fudge's face as he noticed name appear on the paper, having previously accidentally covered it with his hand. "That is excellent. While we're surrounding ourselves with experienced campaign activists, she's putting herself up with students who are fresh out of Hogwarts, most likely chosen by their relationship with her daughter. It's a career suicide, Minister. I can't see how she doesn't see it herself."

"Well, it is one way of saving money, admittedly," said Fudge, bumbling around, munching on his doughnut that an assistant had brought him. "But never fear about things we don't have to worry about, right Lucius, my friend? Tell me, the rare artefacts deal that's supposed to happen tonight. I trust the Ministry will be rewarded handsomely if we, ahem, look the other way?"

"It would appear so, Minister," said Malfoy. "If there are no Aurors on the scene for at least say, thirty minutes? The finances that will be awarded to your campaign shortly after they are sold."

"Well, that will no doubt be interesting," said Fudge. "I trust there are going to be no casualties?"

"Not if we can help it."

"Good. It doesn't really matter on the overall scheme of things, of course, it just helps to accomplish this task with minimal fuss," said Fudge, with a smile. "Tonight, at the container yard in Surrey, then. Best of luck, Lucius. It would help the Aurors too, if you found out any information concerning this mysterious Man in Black…"

"I'll do my best," said Lucius. "But we have the Investigations Team on this. They should be able to find something out soon."

 **III.**

The decision to take the train to Surrey, Little Whinging, had been Hermione's. Despite the quick magical method, she always found a strong preference to the muggle one, and when best entering an unknown territory, she felt it would be a good idea to explore it how most likely someone like Sally Ann-Perks would be exploring it for the first time. She couldn't have possibly learned how to apparate just yet, unless she had a tutor, which meant if she was going to Little Whinging then it would be through the train, and it also helped too that it wasn't that far from London. She found herself in a coffee shop with Seamus on the way around lunchtime, eating sandwiches in muggle gear. "So," said Seamus, "I was doing some digging into the background of the Dursley family and stumbled across something interesting when I checked to see who their relatives were, see if they had any magical connections."

"Interesting. It was something I was going to do myself when I got back, The Ministry overlooked that, they were too busy focusing on Perks. What did you find?"

"It didn't take me long to find a connection at all," said Seamus. "And you won't believe this. Look."

Seamus handed Hermione a school photograph, a muggle one, from several years ago, way back, even before Voldemort's proper rise to power. "Look at this," said Seamus, again. "The two red-haired children sitting in the top row, at the back."

"Petunia and Lily Evans," Hermione said, noticing the surname. "That wouldn't happen to be Lily Evans-Potter, would it?"

"It would appear so, yes," said Seamus, comparing a photograph that he had in his bag with the younger Lily. This photograph was interestingly not from a magical source but rather a muggle paper, the local news showcasing the marriage of Lily and James Potter that they held in a muggle environment. "She looks the same, doesn't she?"

"So do you think they were killed because of their connection to Harry Potter?"

"I mean we're not dealing with a murder case, we're leaving that to the muggle police for now," said Seamus. "But regardless…"

"It can't be a coincidence," said Hermione. "This is further proof that Perks wants to be found. Maybe she has information about the Dursley's murders."

"Or _maybe_ she killed them herself and is taunting us," said Seamus, and both chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. Seamus was quick to add, "I'm only joking of course. Hufflepuff aren't exactly renowned for a house capable of producing serial killers."

Both finished up their food, and left, hailing a taxi, which took them around twenty minutes to reach Privet Drive. They exited the cab, paying the driver half each, having been given enough money in advance by the Ministry for this operation, and eventually, they found themselves approaching the scene which predictably was closed off by the muggle police, with the yellow tape. The crowd had since died down, apart from the solitary Police Officer present, in a blue uniform. A quick spell was enough to send him off to an unknown location as Hermione and Seamus quickly entered Number 12, making sure that nobody was looking in their direction as they did so, unlocking the door with a simple _Alohomora._ They made their way in, careful not to leave evidence, conjuring gloves to hide their finger prints.

A search of the house yielded no results however. As far as Hermione was concerned it was abandoned, having been cleaned out completely. The muggle police had completed their investigation on the inside of the house and it wouldn't be long before the barrier outside was removed completely. "I don't know what Dawlish expected us to find here," Seamus complained when they made their way down past the corridor towards the front door. "There's nothing. It's just a normal house."

He then kicked the wall underneath the stairs in frustration, against Hermione's wishes, but eventually found himself unearthing something surprising. "Seamus, stop," instructed Hermione, and her partner eventually relented, allowing Hermione to weave her magic, and eventually, part of the wall was pulled back, exposing something that had been buried and boarded up for years. "Merlin's beard. Would you look at that?"

"That's a bedroom," said Seamus, covering his mouth. "I'm pretty sure that used to belong to a human, too. Look. Pillow case and everything."

"Guess this is something that the police missed," Hermione said, carefully pulling back the bedcover. There wasn't much here, a broken half of a muggle chess-piece, a knight, but it was the unopened letter, buried in a nearby hole in the wall, that caught Hermione's attention. "Here. Look at this."

"The ink's faded," said Seamus, inspecting the paper, carefully unfolding it on the kitchen table of the empty household. "Here, can you make some of it out?"

"No, but I know that seal anywhere," said Hermione, brushing it off. "That's a Hogwarts seal. From the Hogwarts letter that every eleven-year-old gets."

"Merlin's Beard, you're right," said Seamus. "This is a Hogwarts letter. The question is... who to?"

"They had a son, didn't they? The Dursleys?"

"Yes, but they wouldn't lock him up in the upstairs room. Look, have you seen any of the family portraits? He's in all of them," said Seamus, handing Hermione one. "And here, look at this one. Notice how many Christmas presents there are in the background, there's no way a kid with that many Christmas presents would get the downstairs bedroom when there are four upstairs."

It was Hermione's turn to compliment Seamus' Detective Work, something that she had worked out herself around the same time he had pointed it out to her. "So, we're not looking for someone who's been in the photos."

"We're looking for someone who isn't in the photos," said Seamus, noting that the date on the letter was still legible. "Somebody who the Dursleys would have wanted erased. Let's see… who _should_ have gone to Hogwarts the year we went to Hogwarts but never showed?"

"Impossible," Hermione said. "You understand what this means, right, Seamus?"

"Yeah I do," said Seamus, awed. "We've just found out where Harry Potter grew up."

 **IV.**

Daphne Greengrass had an ambitious childhood, her ideals of what she wanted to be when she grew up constantly changing, sometimes overnight. There were two things that had stuck with her, two things that she ended up being none of, one of which was being a reporter and the other was an actress. Her family, although historically associated with the 'darker' faction of the wizarding world by the lazy, ignorant fools who divided people into two categories based on their allegiances when it was far more complex than that, was actually a fairly neutral family that maintained fairly open ideas. They drunk muggle beer and they smoked muggle cigarettes, and when she was younger, they took Daphne to muggle movies. She remembered watching _Band of Outsiders_ and wanted to grow up to be just Anna Karina, despite the fact that she was of a different skin-colour to her **.** _'_ _All you need_ _for a_ _movie_ _is a_ _gun_ _and a_ _girl_ _,'_ was the famous quote by Jean-Luc Godard that had stuck with her all these years. She was for all intents and purposes, a girl, and the wand served as a gun. And she was, in a roundabout way, about to put on the best performance in her life.

"It's all about the details," Shacklebolt was saying, having handed Daphne a script. "Good isn't just going to cut it. You're going to have to be _better_ than good. They'll smell a rat the moment you walk in the door if you're not ready. Recite after me. And _remember._ Attitude is everything."

"Alright," said Daphne, clearing her throat. "Okay, so there I was, doing my job, and these bastard mudbloods come out of me from nowhere. They start hurling sticks at me, calling me names. Say, I'm not fit to wear the badge, or something like that."

"What house were they in?" pestered Shacklebolt.

"Gryffindor," insisted Daphne. "They were in Gryffindor, I recognised two of them."

"And their names?"

"Don't know. Maybe a Weasley? There was enough red hair on one of them," said Daphne. "Anyway, as I'm turning around, I get hit by a hex and I flip out, properly cursing them. That was the final straw, I've been on duty for three hours, with stinking pay, no breaks, all I've got to do is sit there and stare at the freaking door waiting for someone to come out in a job that I never wanted to do in the first place."

"So what job did you want to do if not an Auror?"

"Journalist," insisted Daphne, reciting off the script, only straying far from the truth in the attitude towards muggleborns, who she was perfectly okay with, indeed, one of her last lovers had been a muggleborn, to the best of her knowledge – she had been far too drunk to pay attention at the time. "I'm fed up with all these mudbloods. They think they have the right to come in and take jobs that go to hard-working people of magical blood because they got better grades than us? It's a joke. Purebloods are the future. The press would have given me a perfect opportunity to try and spread that message, but no. They stuck me on a job that I didn't want. It's bollocks. Something needs to be done about it, and I'm tired of waiting."

Applause followed Daphne's speech from Shacklebolt. "Now, I'll try and swing it so that you can get someone like Snape, who's one of ours already, and see if I can get some word to him. But you seem ready, newbie. If I hadn't have known better that speech would have come from a Death Eater themselves. You'll fit right in even if you're being interrogated by Voldemort himself."

"Thank you sir," said Daphne.

"Now the important part is actually pulling off the curse," said Shacklebolt. "Standard Death Eater initiation is performing the Cruciatus curse on a captured prisoner. Torture. Do you think you can handle that, Greengrass?"

"It depends on the person."

"In that case, try it out on me."

"What?"

"I have to know if you can use it," said Shacklebolt. "If you can perform the curse. The second you fail, they'll have you out in heartbeat. Come on. Greengrass. _Try it._ What are you waiting for, you think you're some kind of coward?"

" _Crucio_ _!"_ Daphne shouted at Shacklebolt, and the spell was unleashed at its target. He did his best to remain calm even though Daphne could tell he was experiencing severe pain and discomfort. Eventually, Daphne finished performing the spell, and the man arched his back as he climbed to his feet. "You alright, Shack?"

"I'm fine," he said, Daphne realising that this probably wasn't the first time that he'd felt the effects of the curse, being a veteran Auror. "You're ready. I just have to offer one more cautionary statement before you go through this."

"What's that?"

"When you fall… don't fall far," he said, leaving Daphne on the roof to ponder those thoughts. She wouldn't find out what he meant by that, not truly, for another several weeks.

 **IV.**

Hermione and Seamus remained in the area of Little Whinging until the evening. "What do you propose we do?" Seamus finally spoke over dinner, as the two were seated in a McDonalds not far from the Train Station. "We can't exactly go back with more questions than answers."

"This is a fairly friendly area, right? Not many people from here move away?" Hermione said.

"It would appear so," said Seamus. "Once houses are bought here, they're bought for life."

"Then the locals that are eighteen-year olds now must have grown up with Dudley Dursley at school," said Hermione. "Maybe we can interview a few of them, pretend we're working with the police, maybe use Veritaserum, find out what they know."

"Veritaserum is strictly controlled by the Ministry, even Aurors need to prove their worth to use it, we're newbies, we can't until we've done at least one case without it to prove we can be trusted," said Seamus. "Unless…"

"As much as I loathe being called The Brightest Witch of my age," Hermione said, glancing across at Seamus, "They don't call me it for nothing. That bag, what potion ingredients do you have?"

"Some."

"It looks like we're in business."

 **V.**

Daphne Greengrass awoke inside the empty basement of an unfamiliar house. She roughly recalled the events of the previous day that had led up to this point, hitting a bar, getting drunk, spouting off about wanting to join the Death Eaters in an area where they frequented, and eventually winded up in one of their basements. One of the men headed downstairs to join her and she was relieved to see that it was Snape. "Greengrass," Snape said with a scowl. "I expected better from you than coming here."

She couldn't break her cover now, in case it was a test, in case Snape hadn't been told, in case Snape was actually a double-double agent and working for Voldemort the entire time, and decided to go through the whole act. She told Snape her story, of why she wanted to join the Death Eaters, and in the end, Snape took her from the room and led her into the hallway to join the other new recruits.

"As it happens we have a different kind of initiation practise for you tonight," said one of the masked men whose voice was changed so much that Daphne couldn't pinpoint it directly, but she thought it belonged to someone in the Ministry. It was to rugged and dirty to be a Malfoy. "You new recruits have been assigned on a mission to prove yourselves. There is a small area of muggle warehouses near Surrey, Little Whinging, where a deal is about to go down for the acquisition of some rare wands between ourselves and some random, no-name organization, calling themselves The Circle. They want to be like us. It's time for us to remind them why there is nobody like us."

Loud cheers from the Death Eater recruits, over-enthusiastic ones, joined in with them. All of them, Daphne included, were wearing hoods, so she couldn't make out who they were. "Those of you who survive the experience will earn the proudest mark of all… his brand. It is the highest honour for any aspiring Death Eater. If you do not retrieve the merchandise, or if something goes wrong, there will be consequences. Understood?"

" _Understood_!" the Death Eaters echoed, and Daphne joined in once more. She half debated sneaking out and contacting Shacklebolt to let him know about the change of plans, but decided that it probably would be a good time to avoid it.

"Now you will sit back and let me do all the hard negotiating," said the Death Eater. "But should something go wrong, you'd better come out wands blazing. I don't want anyone to let me down tonight. This is a big ask I'm putting in all of you. This is a job that would normally be reserved for our higher ups. There are a few among you with Auror experience, however briefly. Use that. Pay attention. And remember, the guys we're up against are not Aurors. They're not afraid to kill. But neither are we. We are Death Eaters. They are The Circle. If they anger us, in any way, Mark my words. They Will Be Destroyed."

There was no other way to put it. Daphne Greengrass' first days as an undercover member of the Death Eaters was certainly going to be an interesting one, and possibly, the most exciting and dangerous night of any of her last eighteen years alive on the Earth.

 **VI.**

It was 9pm by the time that Hermione Granger entered the local muggle nightclub, fairly early, but she wanted to be fairly early, that way she could get people before they were too drunk, almost immediately as they arrived. It was '80s night according to the promotion outside, and New Order's _Blue Monday_ greeted her as she entered. It didn't take her long before she was approached by a guy at the bar. "Hey," said the guy, rather flirtatiously, "Fancy a dance, love?"

"She's taken, I'm afraid," said a girl from behind Hermione, an unfamiliar voice who gave a rather flirtatious smile of her own at Hermione in return, and it didn't take long for Hermione to identify who it was even without the voice. The dyed light blue-hair was still clear, even if it had been made up in a slightly different way. "I presume you know who I am."

"Sally-Ann Perks, you look awfully well for someone who's considered dead."

"Thank you," said Sally-Ann. "You don't look too bad yourself, Granger. I'm sure this is a talk that could be done somewhere more… privately?"

The guy finally got the hint that Hermione wasn't interested in him, and she followed Sally-Ann perks into the back room. "Thanks for the save," Hermione said, gesturing back to the main dancefloor with her thumb. "So, you obviously wanted some Aurors to come here, find out about you... the question is, what did you want them to find out? And never mind that, where the hell have you been all these years? Why did you drop out of Hogwarts?"

"I can't stay here long," said Sally-Ann, her calm demeanour replaced by a rather more nervous, agitated one. She was looking left and right, back and forth. "I'm not sure if even here is safe to talk. I think I was made three different times before I entered this room. And your partner wasn't one of those people who spotted me, he's too busy drinking…"

"Death Eaters?" Hermione asked, worriedly.

"Worse," said Sally-Ann. "The Circle."

"Who are they?" Hermione asked.

"A criminal organization," said Sally-Ann. "I'm pretty sure your Department's looking into them. I dropped out to be a member… I'm not sure why I did. But there was an offer on the table. Drop out, work for them. Get rich quick. I was gullible. I needed the cash for my mother, she lives abroad, and I didn't realise Americans need to pay for their healthcare… so I had to do it. I made a fair amount, too… but trust me, whatever The Circle pay. It's not worth it. No matter how much they offer."

"The Circle… they operate out of Knockturn Alley, correct?"

"You're not as stupid as you look," said Sally-Ann, bluntly. "I'm presuming you're looking out for The Man in Black?"

"Yes. Do you know who he is?"

"I don't. He would always wear a mask when speaking to us," said Sally-Ann. "But I needed to get your attention concerning one of their members, who may be looking to try for a power grab of his own…"

"Who's that?"

Before Sally-Ann could respond, smoke filled the air. Hermione looked around, startled, wondering where the smoke was coming from, but it sent her new friend into violent coughs. Hermione tried to drag her out but spells came through seconds later, shining bright lights, nothing green, she was thankful for that, mostly reds, stunners, but before she could respond, she was hit, knocked down by one of them whilst protecting Sally-Ann.

She never saw her attacker, or understood what he said next. But it was clear that by the time she awoke, in the back of a van that Seamus had stolen from a nearby parking lot, that he was driving away from the danger – Sally Ann Perks had been killed. But Hermione now had something more concrete to work with, something that she could use to her advantage that none of the other Aurors had found previously. The name of the mysterious organization that was operating out of Knockturn Alley. The Circle.

 **VII.**

Daphne Greengrass let go of the Portkey that the three rookie Death Eaters arrived in, a small boot, on the south of the warehouse. She glanced across at one of them who had removed his mask to throw up, clearly not a veteran to Portkeying, instantly revealing himself as a Slytherin seventh year, Theodore Nott. "Merlin's Beard. These masks are too damn tight. Does anyone have a loser one that I could borrow?"

"It's not your fault that your face is too fat, Nott," another Death Eater said, Goyle? Greengrass recognised the voice. "They're secret for a reason. And besides, my mother knitted these today. You should think twice before insulting her."

"Goyle," said Nott with a scowl. "I figured you'd end up around here somewhere. Who's the third, then? Another Slytherin? Come on, there's no need to be strangers. Who've we got? My money's on Crabbe. Seems nobody can separate you two."

"Crabbe's sick," said Goyle, taking off his mask. "And you've got to take that back what you just said about the mask, Nott. They're good."

"They're too itchy," complained Nott, and then turned to Daphne. "Come on. Show yourself. It's only fair."

"Oh, boys, you know you know there's a reason why we wear these masks?" Daphne said. "Privacy. There's a reason nobody knows who our boss is."

"We know who our boss is. He's The Dark Lord," insisted Nott.

"No, no, not him," said Daphne, earning two quick looks from Goyle and Nott. "I mean, _of course_ him, but the boss of tonight's mission. Does anyone know who he was?"

"No," said Nott, and Goyle shook his head.

"Exactly," said Daphne. "I don't care how itchy the goddamn masks are, you're going to wear the goddamn masks. Unless you want to be in the front page of the Prophet tomorrow."

"Greengrass," Nott finally realised who was talking behind the mask. "I thought you were an Auror. What happened?"

"I don't think that's the important question right now," said Daphne. "The important question right now is why there aren't any reinforcements. There were three different portkeys, right? Plus, the bossman? Where are they? We were supposed to meet them here."

"Merlin's Beard," Goyle scowled, putting his mask back on. "You're right. So What do we do, Greengrass?"

"Well we stop calling each other by our names for one," said Daphne. "You idiots. It's a miracle you even qualified Hogwarts at all. Goyle, you're Ace. Nott, you're Jack. I'm Queen."

"Hey, why can't I be King?" Goyle said. "Kings are cooler than Aces."

"Because then I'd get both of you fighting with Nott about why you got the King position and he didn't," said Daphne. "Ace and Jack, and you're going to shut up. We're going to do this properly. Do this right and you'll go down in Death Eater history as the most incompetent people to ever complete a Death Eater mission."

"So what do we do now, Green-" Nott quickly corrected himself, trying to make his _Gr_ sounding like a _Qu_ and failing miserably. "Sorry."

"Follow my lead," said Daphne, and they did, masks and everything, into the warehouse where they were supposed to meet with their leader. Eventually they spotted him after what seemed like half an hour and for the first time, Daphne got her first real look at the enemy who she was fighting against. The mysterious man known as The Man in Black. She had never expected to see him in person but already his intimidating presence commanded the room, and what startled her the most was not only that he was alone, but he resembled a gunslinger, straight out of the western stories of old. He carried multiple pistols as well as a holster for his wand, and was clad entirely in an all-Black costume, even going so far as to sport a cowboy hat, which would in any other situation, would cause him to look like he was out of place, but the fact that you couldn't see his face, as it was somehow obscured from view, made him infinitely more terrifying, and it almost demanded that he be took seriously.

And the moment she saw The Man in Black, properly saw him, Daphne knew the suddenly under-strength Death Eaters didn't have a chance, as just out of hearing range, what should have been an easy deal on paper, erupted into an explosive, deadly conflict, with both her temporary boss and her opponent exchanging fire. It didn't take long for the whole room to lit up, as everything well and truly went downhill for the first time this evening. It was well and truly clear for Daphne that no matter what happened the rest of the night, this wouldn't be the last time on this mission that she wished she had stuck with her true intentions of becoming a reporter rather than let Shacklebolt talk her into doing what roughly amounted to being a suicide mission. She knew that the longer she stayed in the building, her chances of survival would continue to drop by the second. Getting out was the highest priority, and getting out with the rare wands came next. If she could achieve both it would be nothing short of a miracle.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**

More about The Circle and The Man in Black are revealed. The front cover I've decided to use for the book represents the Gunslinger from _The Dark Tower_ series, my favourite novel series of all-time, and there's a huge amount of influence on The Man in Black in this fic taken from the characters in Stephen King's novels. There's also a few similarities between The Man in Black and The Man in the Suit from _Have You Ever Seen the Rain_? but rest assured, they are completely different.

Song title for this chapter is from Bruce Springsteen's _I'm on Fire._ The Chromatics' excellent cover version is also worth a listen too if you like synth-pop.

Film Recommendation of the Chapter is Alfred Hitchcock's classic _Shadow of a Doubt,_ a brilliant thriller that I can't help but recommend enough.

Fanfic Recommendation of the Chapter: _Harry Potter, Rise From Dust_ by _Bluezz-17_ that started in 2011 and unfortunately isn't finished, but a fairly decent Wrong Boy Who Lived fic that's worth a shot. Has some well-written OC's too.

This is probably going to be the last chapter for another couple of weeks unless I can squeeze one more out before the weekend, as I'll be without my laptop for that time. But I'll do my best to put another chapter up when I get back as soon as possible.


End file.
